


Widogast's Theory of Relativity

by AnaliseGrey



Series: Love is a Sacrament [3]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Begging, Blindfolds, Bondage, Dom/sub, Edging, Fjord learns a lot about himself in this story, M/M, Mighty Nein mention, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Sensation Play, better sex through magic, sexy games, switch Caleb, switch Fjord, the wonders of Widogast's Nacient Nine-Sided Tower
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 08:01:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27967235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnaliseGrey/pseuds/AnaliseGrey
Summary: Caleb hums, fingers still idly moving over Fjord’s cock as he considers, and it’s becoming very difficult to focus on much else. Fjord can’t help but wonder if he’s doing that on purpose.“Two days, with the actual, eh, event, as it were, on the second day. Well, evening, technically.”Yeah. He’sdefinitelydoing it on purpose.“Why two days?”“Because I don’t know that you could go the full week.”“Hey!” Fjord pokes Caleb in the side, and Caleb huffs a laugh, curling up like a pill bug. “I couldsogo the full week.”“Do youwantto go the full week, then?” Caleb uncurls somewhat, meeting Fjord’s gaze with a look of such calculated innocence that Fjord can’t help but laugh.“Sure, why not. How hard could it be?”
Relationships: Fjord/Caleb Widogast
Series: Love is a Sacrament [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2040250
Comments: 8
Kudos: 91





	Widogast's Theory of Relativity

**Author's Note:**

> this fic, aka "Fjord learns he's a switch, that Caleb is too, and they both have a great time"
> 
> A follow up to [A Working Knowledge](http://archiveofourown.org/works/27870878).

“Fjord?”

“Hmm?” Fjord’s only kind of awake; he has a feeling it’s still early yet, though it can be difficult to tell in the Tower. However early it is, though, he’s content where he is, comfortable and warm with Caleb tucked up against his side, Caleb’s breath a warm puff against Fjord’s chest.

“May I ask you a question?”

“Mm, sure. Open book, and all that.”

“Did you mean it when you said you wouldn't mind me taking revenge on you?”

Fjord struggles to get his mind to wake up enough to recall what Caleb’s referring to, and when he does his face flashes warm.

“Uh-” He swallows. “I- yes. Yes I meant it.” He huffs a laugh. “I’m not sure whether I can take as much as _you_ , but- it didn’t seem-” He tries to think of a good way to put it and can’t. “ _-too_ unbearable?”

Caleb snorts, and lightly pats Fjord’s stomach. " _Nein_ , it was _very_ unbearable. That is part of the fun.”

Quirking an eyebrow, Fjord looks down but can only see the top of Caleb’s head, his hair an unruly mess. “But you looked-”

“Oh, I _enjoyed_ it, do not get me wrong,” Caleb soothes. “It is-hm. It is all relative, I suppose. The sort of thing where you know it’s worth it.”

“Is it?” Fjord asks. “Worth it, I mean.”

Finally tilting his head up to look at Fjord, Caleb smiles, soft and fond. “I would not let you keep doing it to me if it was not.”

“Fair point.”

They lay quietly together a little while longer, and something occurs to Fjord.

“Cay, why do you ask? About whether I meant it?”

He can almost _hear_ the smile in Caleb’s response without being able to see it. “I have had some...ideas.”

“Ideas?”

“ _Ja, schatz_ , ideas.”

There’s something about the way Caleb says ‘ideas’ that has Fjord wanting to squirm, a delightfully-nervous anticipatory swoop going through his belly.

“I don’t suppose you feel like telling me any of those ideas?”

Now he _knows_ Caleb’s smiling.

“No more than you wish to tell me yours before the appointed hour, Fjord.” Caleb stretches, then presses a kiss to Fjord’s chest, his hand warm over Fjord’s ribs. “Would you be amenable to doing something for me beforehand?”

“Well, I suppose that depends on what it is.”

The hand Caleb has on Fjord’s ribs moves south until his fingers are just brushing over Fjord’s length, pulling a gasp from him.

“Would you be willing to abstain from coming for a few days first?”

“Wh-” He sucks in a breath as Caleb’s fingers continue to move, petting, now. “Why?”

“Because I've asked you to.” It’s almost a purr, and an echo of something Fjord knows he’s said to Caleb before. Part of him knows he’s going to regret it on some level, he’s done enough stupid shit in his life to know what that feels like by now, but he thinks for once he’s not overly concerned about it.

“I suppose? How many days are we talking?”

Caleb hums, fingers still idly moving over Fjord’s cock as he considers, and it’s becoming very difficult to focus on much else. Fjord can’t help but wonder if he’s doing that on purpose.

“Two days, with the actual, eh, event, as it were, on the second day. Well, evening, technically.”

Yeah. He’s _definitely_ doing it on purpose.

“Why two days?”

“Because I don’t know that you could go the full week.”

“Hey!” Fjord pokes Caleb in the side, and Caleb huffs a laugh, curling up like a pill bug. “I could _so_ go the full week.”

“Do you _want_ to go the full week, then?” Caleb uncurls somewhat, meeting Fjord’s gaze with a look of such calculated innocence that Fjord can’t help but laugh.

“Sure, why not. How hard could it be?”

He got played.

He got played _so hard_ and he’s got no one to blame for it but himself.

Two days in, and all he can think is that he could be coming tonight if he wasn’t so full of himself. At this point though he’s far too stubborn to back down, to ask Caleb to do it earlier. If his upcoming experience is anything like Caleb’s was, he has a feeling he’s already going to spend a fair amount of time asking to come, and breaking this early would just be embarrassing.

What Fjord discovers by day five is that there’s something about intentionally abstaining that only seems to get his blood going, which of course only makes it more difficult. Every so often he’ll look up and find Caleb watching him, either from across the cart, an inn table, or even the couch in the Tower’s main library, a small smile on his face, and the heat that’s been curling in Fjord’s belly only simmers hotter. He’s still a little grumpy that the morning he’d agreed, Caleb had taken his hand off Fjord’s cock with a grin, having started the countdown. He’d been hoping to get one for the road, but backed down readily when Caleb asked if he was giving up so soon.

He’s regretting now that he didn’t just say yes.

By the seventh day he has trouble thinking of much else, and he knows he’s distracted. He’s glad nobody attacks them on the road, because he doesn’t really feel like being in a fight while half-hard.

Also ‘distracted by my dick’ is a stupid way to die.

They make it to the end of the day with no disasters and Caleb sets up the Tower, urging everyone inside. Fjord does his best to focus during dinner, making sure to interact with everyone as normal, trying not to rush. He’s not sure how successful he’s being, and has to fend off a concerned question from Jester about how flushed he looks, which of course only makes him flush hotter. He hears a noise from across the table and catches Caleb stifling a snicker by stuffing another dumpling in his mouth, and all Fjord can really do is sigh and assure Jester that no, he’s fine, thanks, probably just windburn.

Eventually everyone splits for the night to do their own thing, and at a pointed look from Caleb, Fjord coughs and wishes everyone a good evening before heading up to their shared room.

They both get there, and as the door closes and locks behind them, Fjord finds himself nervous all of a sudden, to the point that he startles when Caleb puts a hand on his back.

“Breathe, _schatz_. Nothing to be worried about.”

“I’m not worried.” He winces at how high his voice is pitched, clearing his throat and trying again. “Honestly, Caleb, I’m not. I’m just- a little nervous, perhaps? I’ve never done anything quite like this before, at least not from this side of things, and I know _you_ like it, but what if-”

“Shh.” Caleb moves back around front and tugs Fjord down into a kiss, silencing the rambling Fjord was spiraling into. Pulling back after a moment Caleb smiles up at him, and while there’s heat in it, there’s also kindness. “I will not say I am going to take it easy on you, that would rather defeat the purpose. I _can_ assure you I will not harm you. The same rules are in place for this as for when it’s me. If you say stop, I stop, easy as that.”

“I know.” He’s not sure when his voice got so quiet. He knows, _has_ known, everything Caleb’s just said, but somehow hearing Caleb state it plainly, out loud, helps to settle him a little. He looks up and Caleb tugs him down for another kiss, more heated than the first, and by the time Caleb gently pushes him back, Fjord has to work not to chase after for one more.

“Would you like me to explain what’s going to happen before or after you undress?”

Fjord swallows, and sheepishly says, “Before?”

“Of course, _schatz_.” Caleb leads him to the bed and has him sit, Caleb sitting next to him. He takes one of Fjord’s hands in his, running his thumb back and forth over the knuckles, and Fjord finds himself relaxing under the familiar touch.

“Presuming that you are still amenable,” Caleb says, “What will happen is you will strip, and I will restrain you, blindfolding you as well, if you’re alright with it. Then I will tease you the same general way you tease me. Since you had an element of competition when you were running things, though, I had an idea for you, if you’d like to hear it.”

As Caleb’s been explaining, Fjord’s pulse has been quickening, not so much in nerves anymore as anticipation. He licks his lips and nods.

Caleb smiles. “Words, _schatz_.”

“Uh- yeah. I’d like to hear it, Caleb.”

Caleb gives Fjord’s hand a squeeze.

“I understand you cannot track time the same way I can, and I would not expect you to. I am not going to set you up to fail with no chance of success. What I _am_ going to do is this- I will give you a half hour, same as you gave me, and what you have to do is guess when you think the half hour has passed.”

“I have to guess?”

“Mmhmm.” Caleb’s smile starts to shift from 'kind', to 'kind and almost predatory', and Fjord’s not sure how that works but it does. “When you think a half hour has gone by, you will tell me. If you’ve passed the half-hour mark or later, I will let you come.”

“Okay. And, uh...what happens if a half-hour _hasn’t_ passed yet?”

Caleb’s smile doesn’t widen so much as _sharpen_.

“If you call a half hour and it has not yet _been_ a half hour, then I will add ten minutes, tell you what your new total to guess is, and continue on.”

Fuck.

“How-” He’s almost afraid to ask. “How long will you do that?”

“Until you guess correctly, or tap out.”

 _Oh gods_.

Caleb’s lips quirk up and Fjord realizes he said that out loud.

Taking pity on him, Caleb gives Fjord’s hand another squeeze before bringing it up to his lips to kiss the knuckles.

“Does that sound like something you’d like to try? If it’s not, don't worry, I will take no offense, and we can do something else.”

“No, I-” Fjord feels like he’s about to burn up just from hearing Caleb _talk_ about it. He has no idea how he’s going to survive this, but it might not be a bad way to go. “I think I’d like to try it. I trust you.”

“ _Wunderbar_.” Caleb pulls him in with a hand on his face to press a kiss to the corner of Fjord’s mouth. “Is there anything off the table from your usual allowances? Anything you do _not_ want me to do?”

“Have mercy.”

Fjord’s mouth snaps shut in surprise, not having intended to say that, and he can’t imagine what his expression looks like but Caleb’s turns positively wolfish.

“Oh, _schatz_ ,” Caleb says, voice dropping to a playfully-confident shade of gravel that Fjord hasn’t been privy to before. “I’ll have you begging before the first ten minutes have gone by.”

Fjord can’t help a whimper.

“Anyway,” Caleb says, patting Fjord on the cheek as he leans back. “You are wearing far too many clothes. Strip.”

He scrambles up from the bed, peeling his clothes off as quickly as he can without risking their structural integrity, and it’s not long before he’s back by Caleb’s side where he still sits on the bed. Caleb’s still dressed, though his coat and holsters are off, boots kicked to the side. He’s rolled his sleeves up to his elbows, loosening the lacing at the top of his shirt to show a hint of collarbone, and something about that is really doing it for Fjord.

Not that _everything else_ isn’t doing it for him as well.

Caleb turns to face Fjord fully, widening his knees and beckoning Fjord close; he goes readily, about to lean down to kiss Caleb, and pauses before dropping to his knees between Caleb’s feet. He knows it’s not as graceful as when Caleb does it, but it feels right to be down here, to be lower than Caleb in the moment. Caleb’s expression does something complicated, and he leans in, hands light on Fjord’s face to pull him into a biting kiss, and by the time they break apart Fjord is breathless.

“Aren’t you gorgeous.” Caleb murmurs, caressing Fjord’s cheek. “And so good for me already.”

Something warm bubbles up in Fjord’s gut, and he starts to have the tiniest inkling of why Caleb likes it so much when _he_ says that.

“Up you come, though.” Caleb takes him by the forearms, helping to steady Fjord as he stands before rising from the bed. “With me, please.”

He leads Fjord across the room to some furniture that isn’t usually there. There’s what looks like a low fainting couch, but instead of having a back along one side, one end tilts up at an incline, like some of the beach chairs he’s seen in Nicodranis.

None of the beach chairs he’s seen looked quite so solid, though, and he’s reasonably certain they didn’t have straps or anchor points for restraints, either.

Next to that is an oversized overstuffed chair, like the ones scattered around the libraries in the Tower, perfect for curling up on and reading. It’s situated so that reasonably, if Caleb were sitting on it, he could easily reach whoever was on the other chair, and his stomach flips pleasantly.

Caleb has him sit on the lounge chair and lay back, and it’s far more comfortable than he’d been expecting, covered in soft padded leather. As he’s getting situated, Fjord notices that the lower half of the chair has a split down the middle, with separate straps for each leg, though at the moment it’s all pushed flush. He swallows, mouth gone dry, imagining what might happen later. For now, though, he settles in, and Caleb fastens cuffs around his wrists, the same kind Caleb’s worn before. Caleb attaches the cuffs to short lengths of chain down along the sides of the chair so that Fjord has some movement, but can’t lift his hands very far. It doesn’t escape his notice that bound like this, he won’t in any way be able to touch himself, and a flood of heat washes through him at the thought.

Caleb does his legs next- a couple of wider straps, one at upper and one at mid-thigh, with thinner ones just above and below his knees, with wider straps again at his ankles. Heading back to the other end, he buckles a heavy strap each around Fjord’s biceps that keep his upper arms mostly pinned to his sides and held tight against the back of the chair. Once that’s done, Caleb steps back, hands on his hips, surveying him, and it takes an effort not to squirm under the scrutiny.

“Try to move, _schatz_? I want to be sure you are as you should be.”

Fjord dutifully tries to move, tugging at his wrists, his thighs flexing against the straps, upper body largely affixed to the back of the chair, and finds his mouth dry once more.

“Seems good, Caleb.”

“Hmm.” Caleb does something to the lower end of the chair, muttering a word and with a small gesture the two sections separate, though not much wider than shoulder distance apart. It’s no where near as wide as he’d had Caleb’s legs, though he knows that could easily change. While he’s contemplating that, Caleb steps forward and pinches one of Fjord’s nipples, giving it a twist.

Fjord’s nipples are nowhere near as sensitive as Caleb’s, but he still shouts, body jerking in the restraints, not expecting it, and whines as it starts to sink in how very little he can move.

“Good, good.” Caleb retrieves something that’s been laying on the seat of the overstuffed chair and holds it up- it’s a blindfold, made of two separate padded pieces, with a buckled strap feeding through the outer layer of both. “How are you feeling about the blindfold, Fjord?”

“Well, might as well get the full experience, right?” He’s trying to aim for jaunty, but mostly just sounds intensely turned on, and Caleb hasn’t even _done_ anything to him yet.

Fucking hell.

The last thing he sees before Caleb fits the padded pieces over his eyes is Caleb’s smile, which is oddly comforting. The blindfold gets buckled around his head, and once it’s secure, Caleb moves his hands away. Fjord is starting to really understand how much trust Caleb must have in him, and has to swallow the lump in his throat. Because right now he’s helpless- helpless and blind- and if he didn’t trust Caleb implicitly, this would be terrifying.

As it is, though, nerves aside? He’s mostly just excited to see what Caleb’s come up with.

Caleb’s moving around the room, and Fjord follows the sound, trying to imagine what he might be doing, what he's collecting to bring back over. He’s having trouble sitting still, despite the straps and cuffs; he knows they’re going to hold, knows he can’t go anywhere, but it’s a bit of a thrill to feel them hold him in place, the pressure of them against his skin.

He’s so far inside his own head that he doesn’t hear Caleb come back, and so startles at the light touch of fingertips along his shoulder.

“ _Hallo, schatz_.” The fingers trail down his arm, skipping over the strap at his bicep and continuing down until they hit his wrist, giving it a squeeze just below the cuff. “Do you have any questions or concerns before we begin?” 

He has _lots_ of concerns, honestly, but mostly about how long he’ll be able to hold out before he’s begging.

“No, Caleb, I’m ready.”

There’s a contemplative hum from Caleb, and his arm gets one more squeeze before the touch withdraws. “You’re not, but that is the point of these games, I think. I’m starting the count now. Feel free to let me know when you believe a half hour has passed.”

Fjord’s mind is spinning, wondering what Caleb’s going to lead off with, body almost vibrating with anticipatory tension. He’s wound so tight that he yelps at the first touch of something to his knee, light and fleeting. The thing makes its way from his knee up the inside of his thigh, breaks in sensation where the straps are, and after a moment he places what it is and groans, twitching in delicious dread.

The gods be-damned feather.

“Ah, I see you’ve figured out what it is.”

He can hear the smile in Caleb’s voice and bites his lip as the small flickers of touch make it up to the crease of his thigh, goosebumps following in its wake. He’s not usually sensitive there, but something about it makes him squirm. It could be that he remembers _very_ clearly what it did to Caleb to have the spot teased, or that knowing he can't prevent it makes the sensation that much stronger.

After a moment the feather moves on, to his relief, though the relief is short-lived as it moves up to his hip, and he holds his breath, trying to brace for it to start teasing his cock like he’d done to Caleb, but it doesn’t happen. Caleb moves the tip of the feather up along his ribs, wiggling it in Fjord’s belly button until Fjord’s struggling to hold back a laugh, then moves it on.

He keeps expecting to feel it on his cock every time the feather lifts from his skin, and every time Caleb has it land somewhere else. It’s absurd- he’s dreading it, already knowing to an extent how it will feel, but the longer Caleb goes _not_ doing it, the more he wishes he _would_ if only to break the suspense. He’d tried it himself before using it on Caleb, but he’d been able to stop when it became overwhelming.

He doesn’t know what will happen when he can’t.

He’s gotten so used to the feather landing everywhere _but_ his cock that when it finally does get dragged along his length it pulls a shout out of him, whole body jerking against the straps.

“Is this what you were waiting for, _schatz_? You look so tense.”

It drags back the other way and Fjord gasps, hips trying to move though he knows it’s useless; the straps on his upper thighs are high-enough that he doesn’t have the leverage to do much more than wiggle, and it’s not enough movement to escape the feather’s touch. 

Knowing all that doesn’t stop him from trying anyway.

Caleb spends what Fjord thinks is a few interminable minutes dragging the feather up and down, and it’s just as maddening as he feared. It’s so _much_ , the feeling itself driving him crazy, the fact that he can’t escape it making it that much worse. He doesn’t realize until a few minutes in that he’s panting, small sounds tumbling out of his mouth unbidden, but once he does he grits his teeth, trying to control himself.

“ _Nein_ , _schatz_ , none of that, or I will get out a ring gag. You make such lovely sounds, let me hear you.”

The mental image of himself in a ring gag, unable to hold back the sounds he’s making as Caleb teases them out of him sends a bolt straight to his cock and it twitches as he whines.

“Another time, perhaps. I think you can be good enough to do without today, can’t you, _schatz_?”

Fjord starts to answer and breaks off into a cry as the feather stops dragging and moves to flick at the head of his cock.

“ _Gods_ -”

“I understand your new proclivity for the deific, but I think they are not the ones you should be beseeching right now.”

Warm fingers wrap loosely around the base of his cock and Fjord chokes on a noise. Memories of what he’d done to Caleb flit through his mind and he barely bites back a plea before the feather returns, flicking up the underside of his cock to spend a moment swirling at the head before sliding back down, twirling against his balls, a wordless cry bursting out of him as he tries to thrash against the straps.

It’s so much- it’s _so much_ \- and he had no idea. He knew it had to be something, or Caleb ‘usually stoic, even when run through with a spear’ Widogast wouldn’t act how he does when at Fjord’s mercy. But he hadn’t really understood what it meant, what it _would_ mean, to be on the receiving end of this. Hadn’t been able to really wrap his head around it beyond a low-level simmer of arousal whenever he thought about it. Now that he’s in the midst of it, it’s become a conflagration. He doesn’t think he’s ever been so desperately hard in his life, and he has the horrifying realization that he has no idea how much time has passed, and no way to gauge.

Every time a plea tries to come out of his mouth he bites it back, yelling wordlessly if he has to. He knows he’s going to end up begging by the end of this- that’s inevitable- but he’ll be damned if he starts before the first ten minutes have passed. He can manage that much.

He hopes.

There’s a quiet, “Hmm.” from Caleb, and the grip on his cock slides up so Caleb has more control, and the movement of the feather changes. It’s no longer sweeping up and down, instead concentrating on the sensitive spot just under the head, sawing slowly back and forth, and Fjord starts to worry for his sanity.

“Do you know, Fjord,” Caleb asks, voice calm and quietly curious, as if he were discussing spell theory, “what the theory of relativity is?”

Fjord whines, wrists jerking uselessly against the cuffs. “N-no, Caleb, I don’t.”

“Well, it’s a number of things, but a part of it is the idea that time spent doing something pleasant always feels as if it pasts faster, and time spent doing something unpleasant feels slower, relative to the actual passage of time.”

The feather slows even further, and Fjord growls in frustration, squirming as much as he can with Caleb’s grip on him.

“You will have to tell me, _schatz_ , whether time felt fast or slow for you, once we are done.”

He thinks back to what Caleb had said when he first proposed this, that it was relative, that it’s unbearable, but enjoyable, and he has to agree. It’s overwhelming, but while he keeps trying to escape the sensations being inflicted on him, he thinks he’d be upset if Caleb actually stopped.

It’s very confusing.

He stubbornly holds out as long as he can, until Caleb’s moving the feather so slowly it creeps along, and Fjord swears he can feel every wispy tendril of the damned thing as it slides across, until finally he can’t take it anymore.

“ _Please_ -”

At the word Caleb stops, letting go of Fjord entirely and pulling the feather away; Fjord thrashes with a howl of dismay. He whines as Caleb pats his thigh.

“You’re doing so well, Fjord. You made it longer than I thought you would.”

Okay. Okay, that probably means at least ten minutes. That’s a third of the way through, that’s not so bad; he feels like all his nerves are on fire, but it’s not so bad. It’s fine. He can’t imagine anything being worse than the feather, so he’s fine.

Which he keeps repeating to himself right up until the first barely-there slide of an oiled fingertip up the underside of his cock, and he groans, knowing he’s fucked.

“I have to commend you, _schatz_.” The finger stops just under the head, and Fjord holds his breath, letting it out on a whimper as the finger just holds position, not moving. “You had a lot of very good ideas. I hope you do not mind that I’ve taken some of them, with a few small changes of my own, of course.”

Fjord gasps as his cock twitches, moving it over Caleb’s stationary fingertip. “I- _nng_ \- don’t mind.”

“Wonderful.” Caleb’s finger disappears and Fjord’s whimper is swallowed by Caleb’s lips, surprising him with a kiss. He responds immediately, hungrily, moaning as Caleb’s hand comes up to cradle Fjord’s jaw. It’s like sparks everywhere Caleb touches, and it feels so _good_ , to have something he can _do_ , rather than passively suffering. It’s far too soon when Caleb pulls back with a nip to Fjord’s lower lip, thumb sweeping over Fjord’s cheekbone just below the pad of the blindfold before that disappears as well, and Fjord drops back to pant, his head thumping on the high back of the chair.

“You really are doing very well, _schatzi._ ”

Fingers thread through his hair, nails scratching lightly, and Fjord sighs. He’s still wound up, but the soothing touch is nice. The fingers tighten, and he gasps as his head is pulled back, exposing the line of his throat. He can’t help struggling as lips find his neck and Caleb nibbles his way down, pausing to suck a bruise at the base of Fjord’s throat, making him whine.

He desperately wants to touch Caleb, to have him to hold onto, but Caleb doesn’t let him, keeping out of the range of where Fjord can reach. Another flash of heat washes over him as it occurs to him that the only thing he can do is lay here and take it.

His breathing picks up again as the touch of Caleb’s lips move lower, over his collarbones, down the center of his chest. Caleb pauses to nuzzle at Fjord’s ribs before continuing, and Fjord tenses the lower Caleb gets, as he feels Caleb’s hand land on his bound thigh to steady himself. The press of lips goes lower and lower, and Fjord fights not to move, not to do anything that might stop Caleb’s progress. He knows it’s not going to go how he wants, that’s the whole point, and he’s specifically asked for no mercy, but that doesn’t stop some part of him from still hoping, hoping that Caleb will take him in his mouth, all lashing tongue and wet heat, and the thought pulls a low groan from him as he trembles under Caleb’s hands.

As it is, Caleb makes it all the way down to the base of Fjord’s cock before he stops, pressing a kiss there before moving away, and Fjord has to take a moment to jerk and struggle out of sheer frustration.

“I know this is very effective on me; I wonder if it will be as effective on you.” Fjord doesn’t have a chance to wonder what Caleb means before oiled fingers land on the base of his cock, pulling a shout from him. The shout quickly turns to a whimpering moan as the fingers draw up towards the head, barely grasping, slow and inevitable. The fingers pull away and reappear back at the base again, starting their slow journey back up, and Fjord shakes his head, arms flexing against the straps at his biceps, pulling at the cuffs at his wrists.

“How does it feel, Fjord?” Caleb’s fingers pause this time when they reach the head, taking a moment to massage gently before releasing and starting again at the bottom.

“Caleb, please-” He wonders if Caleb’s doing this on purpose, doing things to him that he’d done to Caleb first, just so Fjord has the memory of Caleb’s reactions, so he’ll have an already-instilled notion of the suffering he’s in for.

“Please what, Fjord?” Again, that infuriatingly pleasant tone, as if his fingers aren’t slowly teasing Fjord to madness.

“Gods, Caleb, more, please, I can’t- _aaa_ \- it’s- it’s so _much_ -”

“That is rather the point, _schatz_. You are the one who asked for this, who told me the only thing you didn’t want was mercy.” His fingers remove a moment, giving Fjord a chance to breathe, but then return, freshly oiled, and the slick slide makes Fjord keen. “You still haven’t answered me. _I_ know how long has passed; I can always pause the half hour count until you do.”

“ _No_ , please-” Fjord squirms, hips twitching as Caleb’s fingers pause, just lightly holding the head of his cock.

“Then you had best answer my question.”

Fjord shudders, trying to focus past the need to come, and the knowledge that he _can’t_ , in order to answer.

“It’s-” He twitches, choking on a moan as Caleb slowly rubs a finger just under the head again. “Gods, Caleb, I didn’t- I didn’t know, I-”

“Didn’t know what, _liebling_?”

“How it would- would _feel_ \- it’s-” He sucks in a breath as Caleb rubs a little harder before laying off again. “It’s so much- as you said, _unbearable_ , but-”

“But you do not wish it to stop?”

Barely biting back a whimper, Fjord nods. “I don’t know how to explain-”

There’s a huff of laughter.

“Do not worry, Fjord, I know _exactly_ what you mean.”

The touch of Caleb’s fingers disappears again, and he tries to catch his breath, tries to regain at least a shred of composure as he hears Caleb stand and move from where he’s been sitting.

“Any guesses yet as to how many minutes have passed?”

Oh gods, he’d forgotten about that.

He wracks his brain, trying to think, to figure out how long it’s been since he’d started to beg. More than ten minutes, surely, but how much more? He has no idea, and as his mind spools out the possibilities before him, his cock twitches again.

If he guesses it’s been a half hour, and he’s right, then Caleb will let him come, which he desperately wants, but-

He kind of wants to see how much he can take. Wants to see if he can get to the same place Caleb does sometimes. He can’t quite imagine it, being so overwhelmed by need that it’s all he can think about, until he can’t do anything but beg and writhe.

If he guesses wrong, his suffering will continue, even longer than Caleb’s had, until he guesses right. It’s a bit daunting at first blush, but the thought that it might take more than once to get it right sends arousal twisting through him in a way he doesn’t expect, and he wonders if guessing wrong would be so bad, really.

He knows he has the option to just not guess at all, and keep drawing it out regardless, but he has a feeling he’ll hit a point where he’ll try to guess just because he can’t take it anymore, and he surprises himself when he realizes he doesn’t want that to happen.

In the end he decides, at least for the time being, to take the decision out of his own hands entirely.

“Has- has it been a half hour?”

“Is that a question, _schatz_ , or a declaration of what you believe to be true?”

Licking his lips, Fjord says, “A- a declaration.”

“Hmm.”

Fjord is starting to become wary of when Caleb makes that sound, and he’s right to be, though it’s still the outcome he was hoping for.

“I’m afraid I must tell you it has not in fact been a half hour yet, Fjord. It has only been about fifteen minutes.”

Oh gods, he’d been barely halfway through.

Caleb pats his shoulder and Fjord groans, hands again tugging at the cuffs.

“With another ten minutes added, your remaining time is now twenty-five minutes, Fjord. Please let me know when you believe that time has passed.”

It’s what he wanted, he knows it is, but he’d thought more time than that had passed, had thought it would be another fifteen minutes total at worst. But now he has almost another full half hour to go, and he wonders if he made the right decision.

It’s too late now, whether it was or not.

Without any warning the parts of the chair his legs are strapped to open wider, startling a yelp from him, legs reflexively trying to resist the movement. He fails utterly, the chair sections locking into their new position with a quiet _thunk_ , leaving his legs spread wide, much closer to what he’d done to Caleb previously. He’s been strapped to this chair for over a quarter of an hour now, with Caleb doing his damnedest to drive him insane, but this is the first time he’s felt _vulnerable_.

“You know, Fjord, this is a good look on you.” Caleb’s voice comes from between his spread legs. “Not that you do not look good all the time, of course.”

“Flattery,” Fjord gasps. “Will get you nowhere.”

“Oh, to the contrary, Fjord. It will get me everywhere.”

Fjord jumps at the touch of Caleb’s hands landing on his knees, whining as they slide, teasing their way up the sensitive skin of his inner thighs. He pauses at Fjord’s hips, letting his thumbs sweep slowly up and down over the creases of Fjord’s thighs, and Fjord bites down another sound. This is his own fault, really, Caleb meting out the comeuppance he was likely due for.

“I know this is not usually a spot for you, _schatz_ , but you reacted well to the feather here, so I thought I would try my fingers as well.”

It’s not long before Fjord is struggling, trying to pull away, to jerk his hips, and he doesn’t know whether he’s trying to move towards or away. His hands keep coming up as if it will do anything, getting stopped over and over by the cuffs. He knows no amount of tugging will let his hands move further, he’s not that strong, but he’s powerless to stop.

He’s about to start begging again when one of Caleb’s hands lifts, and the man mutters a word. A second later Fjord feels his hips pressed down to the chair, an even pressure all the way across.

“What-” He tries to move, to jerk away, and nothing happens; the pressure holds, his efforts not strong enough to dislodge whatever’s holding him down.

“ _Oh fuck_ -” Fjord gasps out before both of Caleb’s hands are back to teasing at the top of his thighs, dragging over and around his hips, around the base but not quite touching Fjord’s cock. This is worse than the feather, worse than Caleb’s oiled touches to the head of his dick. He’d thought he couldn’t move before, but that was _nothing_ compared to whatever Caleb’s done now. He can’t move his hips at all, forced to endure every teasing touch, every swipe of Caleb’s thumbs, without even the relief that struggling brings. Fjord laughs, a little hysterical as he recalls that not long ago he’d thought nothing could be worse than the feather.

“What’s so funny, _schatz_?” 

Caleb’s breath ghosts warm over Fjord’s cock and _gods_ does he wish he could move, even a little. Instead he whines, hands trying to move again, but this time up and in, and he groans as Caleb’s resulting laugh has another brush of warm air move over him.

“If you can manage to reach your cock, _schatz_ , you can come.”

“ _Mean_ -” It’s all he manages to get out before Caleb’s hands stop teasing up near his hips. They reappear a moment or two later, once again slicked with oil, Fjord choking on a cry as Caleb draws the pads of his fingers over and around Fjord's balls.

His brain feels like it’s shorting out, and he can’t even _move_ , no matter how desperately he wills his hips to. He hadn’t been aware it was possible to be this intensely aroused and not come, but now that he is, he has a whole new appreciation for Caleb and how he handles everything Fjord’s thrown at him before.

“Caleb- Caleb please- I- I can’t- _oh gods,_ no, _please-_ ” One of Caleb’s hands has dropped even further, ghosting over Fjord’s entrance and he can’t. He just _can’t_.

“Well that got a reaction.” Caleb’s hands withdraw, and the pressure across his hips lets up. His breath hitches as Caleb’s hands land on his thighs again, firm this time instead of teasing, giving a gentle squeeze. “How are you doing, Fjord?”

Words. He needs to find words. He knows how to do that, he _does_ , but every word that he tries to say wants to come out as a plea, an exhortation for mercy. He’s unutterably grateful that Caleb is giving him a moment to scrape together what remains of his brain to try to answer, instead of doing what he’d probably have done in Caleb’s place. 

He’s the kind of asshole that would have kept gently teasing.

“Fjord?” 

The hands squeeze again, and it’s been just long enough that while he’s still thrumming with need, it’s given him room to think.

“I’m- holy _shit_ , Cay.”

A delicate snort sounds from in front of him, and Caleb pats his thighs before letting go.

“Enjoying yourself, then?”

“I- yes? I don’t know whether that’s the right word.”

“Then allow me to rephrase. Do you want to stop?”

Fjord swallows. “I don’t believe my time is up yet, Caleb.”

Again, he can hear the smile in Caleb’s voice when he speaks. “No, it isn’t.”

Moments later something scrapes over a nipple and he shouts, jerking in surprise. It happens to his other nipple a few seconds later, and he tries to twist away but the straps at his biceps keep him from going far. The thing returns to the first nipple and gets dragged across, even lighter than the first time, over and over until he’s squirming, gasping against it.

“I perhaps did decide to take it a _little_ easy on you, Fjord.”

What he now realizes is the quill end of the feather drags lightly across again and he whines.

“I could have _not_ strapped your arms to the chair, and added ten minutes every time you moved.”

That pulls a groan from him, dissolving to a whimper when Caleb switches nipples again.

A few minutes pass, the air filled with the soft sounds of his torment- his gasped breaths and whines, the jingling every time his arms jerk against the cuffs, the creak of the leather straps as he struggles.

“Please, Caleb-”

The quill pulls away, and he’s breathing a sigh of relief when oiled fingertips alight at the base of his cock again, starting to drag up, and he thrashes, knowing where it’s going, now, and not sure he can handle it. Caleb’s fingers get to the top and massage a moment before sliding back down to the bottom again. His thighs are going to be sore from how often he keeps flexing them, desperate to move, to get more, to get anything but the too-gentle and incessant tease of Caleb’s fingertips.

“Half- half hour!”

The fingers stop just under the head of his cock where they’d been on their way back up again, and he whimpers every time his cock twitches against them.

Caleb clucks his tongue, tone apologetic.

“Oh, Fjord.” One of Caleb’s fingers, the thumb, he thinks, starts to lightly swipe back and forth under the head of his cock, and he twitches. “It has only been nine minutes. You are now back up to twenty-six.”

“ _Nnng_ -” His hips try to buck forward, and Caleb tuts.

“It could be worse. I could hold your hips down again and do this to you.”

“ _Fuck_ -”

“Or,” Caleb says, “Hold your hips down again and get a finger in you, see what it feels like when you can’t move.”

“ _Oh gods, please-_ ”

“Was that a plea for mercy or a plea for action, _liebling_?”

The finger under his cock head hasn’t stopped it’s infuriatingly-light sweep back and forth, and he can barely think past it, wanting to agree to anything if it gets him more; he gets it, now, Caleb’s willingness to offer anything in return for relief, even not knowing what it might be.

“For, for fi- _aaa_ \- fingers, Caleb, please, I need-”

“You don’t need, _schatz_ , you _want_. I assure you that you will survive whether you get anything in your ass or not.”

Fjord’s not entirely convinced that’s true.

“Besides, do you really want something in you when you know you’re not allowed to come?”

‘Yes’, and ‘no’, and ‘ _anything’_ , is what Fjord wants to answer, but that’s too much to come out at once, and so it comes out as a garbled groan of frustration. 

The thing is he doesn’t _know_.

He hadn’t realized he wanted something in him until Caleb mentioned it, and now it seems cruel that he’s so empty. But it’s also as Caleb says- does he really want that, that level of stimulation when he knows he’s not allowed to come? Is he really going to do that to himself? He doesn’t know that he can take it, that he’ll be able to withstand it.

But then the thought that he’ll _have_ to take it, because he won’t be able to escape it, won’t have a choice but to endure it, makes heat flare through him again so fast and strong that he moans, unable to help it, hips making an aborted jerk forward again.

The hand on his cock disappears and reappears a moment later, once again whispering over his hole and he jerks in the restraints, barely suppressing a scream. The touches keep coming, barely-there, light, and _gods_ , what he’d do for just a little more, for the touch to firm up and press in, even a little.

“ _Caleb_ , gods, please, I’m begging you, _please_ -”

“Why?”

It’s asked so casually, as if Caleb were asking him why he liked cheese on his sandwiches, and he keens as the touch turns to gentle circling. He can’t keep still no matter how hard he tries, hips moving and wiggling on their own, with no input from him. He struggles to get himself together enough to form words.

“Wh- what do you mean _why_?”

The finger circling his hole slows to an agonizing speed, so light that it loses contact occasionally, only returning to continue a second later.

“Why do you want something in you even knowing you can’t come, knowing how much it will be? Knowing that you won’t be able to stop me if I decide to bring you to the sharp edge of climax and keep you there? Or, perhaps,” Caleb’s fingertip moves away again, leaving Fjord bereft and whining. “Perhaps bring you to the edge only to let you drop back without falling, over and over again, until all you can do is beg.”

He can’t even answer, mind helpfully providing him images and imaginings of what that would be like, what it would _feel_ like, and he thinks he might combust. It sounds horrific, agonizing-

It sounds like torture, and he finds he’s wanted little else in his life as much as he wants what Caleb’s describing.

Bolts of want shoot through him and every cuff and strap holding him down is an extension of Caleb’s hands, of Caleb’s will, in the tower Caleb himself built, bidding him to hold, to wait, to be patient.

He doesn’t have it in him to be patient anymore, that’s well beyond him right now, but Caleb’s been merciful in that he’s taken away Fjord’s ability to fail at the other two. He can hold, he can wait, because Caleb’s made it easy to follow those requests.

He doesn’t have a choice but to follow.

“I’m waiting, _schatz_.” The tone is mild, but he can hear the threat behind it, the implication that he’ll suffer more if he doesn’t answer, though he’s hard pressed to imagine how he could _possibly_ be suffering more right now.

It’s almost tempting to find out.

“All-” he gasps out, “All of that, it- it sounds-” _Words_ , damnit, where are his words- “Good- it sounds-”

“Unbearable, but worth it?” Caleb’s smile curls around the words, and Fjord nods.

“ _Yes_.”

“Hmm.”

Oh gods... _oh gods_...what’s that mean, what’s he going to-

“I have an offer for you, Fjord.” The finger returns to his ass, freshly oiled again and circling and that is _cheating_ is what that is.

“Wh-what?”

“I will no longer make you keep track of time, nor guess. I will continue to tease you as I see fit- within your usual boundaries, of course- with the same promise you made me, that you’ll get to come at the end.”

“ _Aaa-_ ” the finger dips inside him for a fraction of a second before slipping back out to keep circling. “How- how long?”

The finger pulls away, drawing a whimper from him, but then Caleb’s hands alight on his shoulders, the heat of him pressed against Fjord’s front as he leans in, the fabric of Caleb’s shirt teasing over his cock, and he jerks against the straps, whining. Caleb’s close enough that his breath warms Fjord’s lips when he speaks.

“Until I am satisfied. Until you have no thought in your head but the need to come. Until you have endured the unendurable and come out the other side.” A hand moves from his shoulder to pet through his hair, nails scratching lightly and even that pulls a small sound of desperation out of him. There’s the faintest touch of Caleb’s lips to his own, so that his lips buzz with the words when Caleb speaks, his voice quiet and rough and _devastating_. “Until you are a being of pure need, writhing and begging for relief. Then, and only then, will it be granted to you.”

Fucking _hell_.

Caleb pulls back, his fingers giving a light tug to Fjord’s hair before falling away again.

“I am not heartless, Fjord. I will give you a minute to think about it. But you had best have a decision at the end of that minute, or I will start your half hour over again from the beginning.”

Never in a million years would Fjord have guessed that his sweet, gently-submissive Caleb had this within him; now that he knows, he doesn’t know that he’ll ever be able to look at him the same way.

What does he want, though?

What’s being offered is intimidating as hell; he already feels half-mad with want, and has no capacity to comprehend what it would be like other than ‘more’. This has already been more than he could have possibly imagined when he’d first agreed to let Caleb do it. He’s suffering, yes, and knows it would be too much to handle if he weren’t strapped down, but he _is_ enjoying it. The opportunity to just give in, let go, to not have to _think_ \- well, that’s got an allure to it. Gods know he trusts Caleb enough; what he _doesn’t_ know is whether he’s brave enough to do it. He’s spent most of his adult life wearing a mask, in one way or another, and while he doesn’t consciously do so now, this will be a level of being seen that sends a small thrill of fear through him.

If he decides to continue with the game they’ve been playing, Caleb would let him. He’d let Fjord maintain the last shred of control that he still has, feeble though it may be. When it comes down to it, though, does he really want that control right now?

“I’ll have your answer now, _schatz_.”

No. No he doesn’t.

“Yeah- I’ll take that deal.”

He sucks in a breath as Caleb’s hands land on his face, thumbs sweeping over his cheekbones again, and Fjord turns his head to press a kiss to one of Caleb’s palms.

" _Wie schön_."

A thumb drags over Fjord’s bottom lip and he whines, mouth falling open, but it doesn’t press in, tracing once more over his lip before withdrawing.

“You’re so good for me.”

There’s a light press of lips to his, and then all contact stops. He shivers, skin buzzing with anticipation and pleasure at Caleb’s words. While part of him wants to worry about what he’s just agreed to, the vast majority of him is more than ready to give in, tired of fighting for control.

A hand tangles in his hair, tightening, pulling his head back as light fingertips stroke over his throat, making him squirm.

“I cannot wait to hear how well you beg, _schatz_.”

The quiet gravel in Caleb’s voice goes straight to his dick and he moans, helpless in the face of whatever Caleb’s about to do to him.

Caleb’s touch disappears and he whines at the loss, gasping a moment later as hands stroke up his thighs, the touches becoming lighter and more fleeting the higher they get. Then for the third time that night, oiled fingertips land at the base of his cock and start to slide up at turtle’s pace. He shakes his head back and forth with a groan, wrists jerking against the cuffs.

“ _No_ , _please_ , _not again_ -”

Caleb pays no mind, dragging his fingers up until they reach the head, taking a few seconds to just skate around there before beginning their descent back down and _gods_ , what was he _thinking_ , why did he agree to this? It was madness to think he could do this, that he’d be able to withstand it.

It goes on, at the same slow, inexorable pace, and he’s glad he doesn’t have to try to track the passage of time anymore, because right now it means less than nothing. The only thing that matters are the fingers on his cock, and they continue their slow teasing movement no matter how he begs and pleads for the torment to end. He tries to tell Caleb he can’t stand it, that it’s too much, but it does nothing. He pleads for mercy, knowing he’ll receive none, but can’t stop the words from tumbling out of his mouth, until he doesn’t even rightly know _what_ he’s saying.

It’s endless, and every moment he’s sure he can’t possibly take any more, but he does, because he has no choice. He spends a short amount of time attempting to will himself to come, but the light touches aren’t ever enough, and he can’t get there through will alone.

There does come a point where the fingers slow and stay up at the head, not dropping down again, and he doesn’t know what to do, body in constant motion in a search for more. He doesn’t get it, knew he wouldn’t, just more of the light touches, until one starts rubbing under the head again, firmer than any other touch he’s gotten recently, and it’s almost too much, but somehow still not enough, and after being teased for so long even that’s enough to bring him closer to the edge than he’s been all evening. He starts to wonder if this is it, if this is how it ends-

Right as he’s about to tip over the edge the touch stops, pulling away completely, and he screams, thrashing in frustration as his hips buck up into thin air.

“ _Why_ \- gods _damn_ you-”

From between his legs he hears Caleb tut at him.

“If you are going to be rude, _liebchen_ , I will feel the need to take action. I am perfectly content to bind you tighter and continue to do that to you all evening. I wonder how many it would take before you were begging for forgiveness.”

“ _Gods_ , please, no, I- I’m sorry-”

A pat to his thigh, and a squeeze. “It is alright, I forgive you. Just be mindful.”

Mindful. As if there’s anything in his mind at all right now other than the overwhelming need to come.

There’s a contemplative hum, and he shudders, wondering what Caleb’s come up with next.

It doesn’t take long to find out as a hand appears high up the inside of one of his thighs, not teasing, but more of a tap to get his attention.

“Are you able to scoot forward any, _schatz_?”

It takes him a moment to figure out what Caleb means, and he tries, flexing his thighs while tilting his hips forward and up, and manages to get his ass a little closer to the edge of the seat where it splits off for his legs. He can’t go much further than that, the straps keeping him from going too far.

“Perfect. Thank you.”

There’s a pause, and then Caleb says, “You are going to feel a touch that is not mine, but do not worry. It is Schmidt, my unseen servant, lending me a hand.”

Before he can ask what Caleb means, there are what feel like hands on his ass. It’s odd, since they’re made of force and so aren’t warm, like the air itself is touching him, and he yelps as they proceed to spread the cheeks of his ass and hold them that way.

“What- what are you-”

“You will find out shortly, _schatz_ , won’t you?”

He tries to catch his breath, to bring himself down a bit from the edge he’d been at, but that becomes significantly more difficult when he feels the feather, the tip being dragged lightly over his hole. He shouts, thrashing again, or at least tries to. The unseen servant loses their grip, and he receives a light slap to the thigh from Caleb.

“If you can keep your hips still I will touch your cock again.”

And he knows, he _knows_ Caleb, the specificity with which he speaks. He might touch Fjord’s cock again, yes, but that’s no guarantee that he gets to come yet. But any chance is better than none, any _touch_ is better than none, so he steels himself, trying to still as the servant gets a hold on him again, spreading his ass for Caleb’s convenience.

The next touch of the feather is no easier to withstand, but he manages to keep still, to not wrench himself away from the hold the servant has on him. His thighs quiver with the effort, and he focuses on trying to hold still, to be good and do as Caleb’s asked. Caleb seems intent on making it as difficult as he can, dragging the feather back and forth, flicking it around until Fjord’s begging again.

“ _Please-_ Caleb, I- no more, please, I can’t-”

“You are doing so well, _schatz_.”

The words help, a small bolster, and he grits his teeth and manages to hold still another few minutes, but his will is fraying under the continued assault. Just as he thinks he’s about to lose the battle, that he can’t keep his hips still for another second, the feather stops, and Schmidt releases the hold on his ass. He just lays there a moment, panting, a strangled sound startled from him as Caleb’s hand wraps loosely around his cock. The urge to try to thrust up is near-overwhelming, and he only manages not to by the skin of his teeth.

“ _Very_ good, _schatz_.”

The grip tightens ever-so-slightly, pulling a whimper from him before stroking slowly upward. It’s what he’s been wanting, but also nowhere near enough.

Or at least he didn’t think it was.

Caleb keeps stroking, and he realizes that Caleb’s tightening his grip incrementally each time he moves his hand up, until he’s close- just as close as he was before- and is trembling in the effort to hold his hips still; Caleb hasn’t told him to stay still through this, but he also hadn’t told him to _stop_ , and the desire for Caleb to keep going is stronger than the intense desire to move that keeps zinging along his nerves.

“Please- please, Caleb, I’m so close- let me, _please_ -”

He’s sure, sure that this time Caleb will relent, but Caleb lets go just before he topples over the edge and he can’t even scream this time, letting out a sob of frustration as he struggles and thrashes. He was so close- so _very_ close- but relief remains just out of reach.

Caleb pets over his stomach, and even that’s enough to make his hips jerk, though he realizes that scooted down like this, he isn’t able to move his hips as far as he could before.

He jolts at a light touch to his hole again, squirming. It pulls away then returns, a lot slicker than it was a moment ago, circling, and he whines.

He wants to beg- for it to stop, for it _not_ to stop, for more- but it’s difficult to get words out. He _wants_ , so badly he can’t even verbalize what he wants. He wants to come, yes, desperately, but it feels so good he almost doesn’t want it to end.

Caleb’s finger slips in and he groans, trying to keep still, barely managing.

“Let me help you with that, _schatz_.”

A moment later he hears Caleb say something, and he has a split second to recognize it as once again, firm pressure pushes down like a blanket, pinning his hips in-place.

“ _Oh gods_ -”

“I know I mentioned this earlier-” Caleb slips a second finger in, gently stretching and rubbing. “-and you seemed interested, so we’re going to give it a try, _ja_?”

He sounds so pleasant, is the thing, not at all like he’s making Fjord go out of his mind with frustrated need.

He tries to prepare himself, knowing what’s likely next, but no matter how hard he tries, he isn’t remotely prepared for the moment when Caleb’s fingers graze his prostate. He screams, devolving to a whimper when it hits home how much worse this is than he’d thought. He can’t move his hips at all, can only kind of flex his thighs. Now that Caleb’s found what he’s after, he’s merciless, teasing the small gland with the pads of his fingers in light brushing sweeps.

Fjord has no idea what he’s saying, what words are falling out of his mouth. He’d had the thought earlier that what Caleb was suggesting sounded like torture, and he doesn’t think he was wrong; but it’s also some of the sweetest torture he’s ever experienced. He’s given up trying to move his hands, instead digging his claws into the sides of the chair and holding on as he quickly loses his mind.

He can’t move, can’t thrust; all he can do is suffer however Caleb wills him to suffer, and is only a little surprised when he realizes he’s happy to do it, if only because it’s Caleb asking.

“Do you think you could come from this?”

Fjord whines as Caleb presses more firmly.

“ _Please-_ gods please-” He thinks some of his claws may have popped through the leather of the chair. “I can’t- I can’t take it, Caleb, _please_ -”

Another firm press.

“You don’t have a choice but to take it, _schatz_. You’re held down for me very nicely, I don’t believe you can avoid it.”

Caleb switches to gently massaging in a circle, and Fjord-

Fjord gives up.

Or gives in.

He’s not really sure which, to be honest. Either way, he hits a point where it’s easier to let the tide of pleasure and sensation overtake him than to keep fighting it.

He can feel what Caleb’s doing, still, and it feels good- feels _amazing_ \- but there’s no need to struggle or fight, because he can feel it everywhere, skin buzzing with it. He doesn’t try to hold any of the sound in anymore, doesn’t bother trying to beg or plead; they weren’t helping him anyway.

He distantly feels a hand wrap around his length and give a squeeze, and he _moans_ , back arching to the extent he can, toes curling, and just shivers and sighs when when it’s released again.

“Oh, look at you. I think you are about done, _liebling._ Would you like to come?”

Brow wrinkling, Fjord tries to think past the syrupy goo his brain seems to be made of. Does he? It had felt so important only a moment or so ago, and it still is, to an extent, but it doesn’t feel so immediate, so overwhelming. Still, it would probably feel good.

“Yes?” 

There’s a quiet snort from in front of him.

“Was that a question?”

“I- no? Maybe? Just-” He breaks off to a quiet moan again as Caleb stops the circling his fingers are doing and presses firmly instead. “- _yes_ , Caleb, please-”

“Alright, _schatz_.” The pressure that’s been holding him pinned releases, and a warm hand lands on his hip, giving it a squeeze. “Just a moment. You can come as soon as you like.”

Fjord hums in acknowledgement, words seeming a step too far right now. He gasps as something’s drizzled over his cock, hips twitching at the feeling of warmed oil dripping down sensitive skin. The touch of Caleb’s hand, giving him the first firm stroke he’s had all evening pulls a groan out of him, and when Caleb does it again, matched by the press of fingers he has in Fjord’s ass, Fjord finds that his desire for an orgasm has reignited significantly.

One of the things he loves about Caleb is his single-minded focus when there’s something he’s interested in, and being the subject of that focus is intoxicating. Caleb is working him with a will, trying to wring an orgasm from him just as hard as he was trying to keep it from him but a moment ago.

He’s trapped between Caleb’s hands, wanting to bear down on the fingers inside him but also wanting to push up into Caleb’s fist, hips rolling to try to get both, making small sounds of desperation as he does.

The orgasm hits him like a war hammer to the head, slamming through him almost by surprise. Caleb hits just the right combination of pressure with his fingers and the twist of his other hand around Fjord’s cock, and Fjord comes screaming, back bowed as much as the straps at his arms will allow. He trembles and quakes through it, until he finally starts to come down from it, twitching as Caleb pulls his fingers back out.

Caleb gives Fjord’s cock one more tug and Fjord whimpers, shivering in over-stimulation, and Caleb hushes him.

“Perhaps some other night, _liebling_.”

He can’t move, but this time it’s because he’s been wrung out like a dishrag. His limbs are lead, and yet he also feels as though he’s in a soft haze. He can hear Caleb moving around him, and a pleased rumble bubbles up through Fjord’s chest as a warm damp cloth starts to wipe him down. Soon, Caleb’s hand is on his arm, giving it a squeeze.

“How are you feeling, _schatz_?”

“Like I don’t have any bones left. They’re gone. Run away.”

A huff of laughter.

“Is it alright if I begin unstrapping you?”

“Mmmm ’s your chair. Can if you want to.”

“Alright, then.” Amusement colors Caleb’s words as he begins to release Fjord. He pushes the legs of the chair back together and undoes the buckles on first one leg, then the other, giving his ankles a squeeze. Once that’s done the straps at his biceps are next, then the cuffs at his wrists until he’s free.

He feels a little like he’s floating, like how he feels when he’s on his back in the sun-warmed ocean, and he has no idea how he’s getting to the bed, because he’s pretty sure his knees have gone to jelly.

A hand starts petting through his hair and he sighs contentedly, leaning into it.

“Would you like me to take the blindfold off, or leave it on for a little while?”

“On, I think.” He’s not quite ready to leave this feeling behind, and he knows once the blindfold comes off, he’ll have to.

“May I move you to the bed, _schatz_? It may be more comfortable for you right now.”

“Sure.”

There's a few murmured words, and Fjord gasps as he lifts from the chair and moves gently through the air, set carefully down to sink into the bed, joined by Caleb a moment later.

Fjord's able to move just enough to flop sideways towards him, curling in against Caleb’s side, suddenly craving- he's not sure what, just that he wants Caleb close.

Luckily, Caleb is more than willing to accommodate him, gathering him near. Fjord has size on Caleb, but Caleb has him scoot down the pillows a little so he can tuck in against Caleb’s chest, head fitting under Caleb’s chin. Caleb’s arms wrap around him in a hug, lips pressing to his hair before Caleb loosens his arms enough to pet Fjord’s back.

"Are you doing alright? Do you need anything?" The words are spoken quietly, Caleb’s breath making Fjord’s hair ruffle, and it sends a pleasant shiver through him.

"Just this, I think."

He's comfortable for now, though he can feel the ache in his thighs and arms at his periphery, knows that once the afterglow fades he's going to feel it even more, but that's easily dealt with later. For now, this is perfect; he’s warm, and sated, boneless as Caleb continues to pet and hold him.

"You did so well, _schatz_." Another kiss to his hair. "Did you enjoy it?"

There's the tiniest hint of worry in Caleb’s voice, and Fjord snorts against his chest.

"I don't know that I could have enjoyed it any more and survived." He snuggles closer, winding an arm around Caleb’s middle to give him a squeeze. "I very much enjoyed it, Caleb. I think you're a bit of an asshole yourself sometimes, but I could be convinced to do that again."

"Well, I can be very persuasive."

The low rumble of Caleb’s voice makes him squirm in delightful anticipation.

"I look forward to it."

**Author's Note:**

>  _Wie schön_.- How beautiful


End file.
